


I thought you should know...

by Mirkys_Concubine



Series: ITYSK [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Affairs, Angst, Cheating, Drama, F/M, Fire, Lies, On the Run, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:53:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27504118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mirkys_Concubine/pseuds/Mirkys_Concubine
Summary: A simple story of you (****) finding out that it was all a lie.Excerpt:It was your fault really.Maybe those novels had fucked you up with hope and dreams.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Original Female Character(s), Steve Rogers/Reader
Series: ITYSK [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2017606
Comments: 14
Kudos: 71





	I thought you should know...

**Author's Note:**

> Y/N and Reader is put down as ****.  
> Less annoying.  
> There is a brief mention of suicide but I tagged it, nothing happens. Just a passing thought.

**I Thought You Should Know**

You never believed in Happily Ever After or True Love. It was a false narrative of romantic virgins or bitter authors brow beaten from marriage.   
Secretly you fell into the fiction world of romances - between alien brides and young adult love affairs with creatures - you never thought you'd be suckered into it.  
Love.  
An atrocious 4 letter word.   
Except you somehow found it. It was packaged nicely, tall and muscular, a GI Joe-esqu man who had Alpha Male vibes, who normally wouldn't have been your type.  
Steve Rogers aka Captain America shouldn't have caught your interest. Too vanilla, not that - that was a bad thing but still. You were more a chocolate and dulce de leche sorta girl but at least once in your life a girl like you should try a different flavor.  
The shy virginal type wasn't your thing and boy were you proven wrong. The man who pulled out you chair, was polite, had manners, and could blush at your dirty jokes was a filthy dirty man in bed.  
You loved it.  
You became obsessed.   
Going from booty call to friend with benefit to dating was a rollercoaster of orgasms and missions. Not that you saw much of the field - you were the tech, the profiler, the assistant to the Avengers.  
It was your fault really.   
Maybe those novels had fucked you up with hope and dreams.   
Maybe you put too much stock in believing people would like you enough to be your friend. Between girl time with Natasha, Pepper, and Wanda you'd think they would return the same sentiment and *tell you. Bucky not saying a word was a given, even Tony with his playboy ways - allegedly _former_ playboy ways - but Sam?   
The nice one.  
The one who hugged you, cuddled, and ate your cookies Sam had smiled and pretended like the rest of them.  
Even Bruce! Your geeky friend who let you share lab space for you to tinker with random shit.  
Maybe it was because Clint was married and had a wife, kids, a farm, and a dog that he did what he did. An unexpected late night visitor dressed in black and had made you question him, "Are you here to kill me?" Because his face was serious, his entire demeanor had switched from quirky Archer to this assassin persona making you reach for your gun.  
The plop of a vanilla envelope had stilled you. A plain lumpy vanilla envelope with a red string looped to keep it closed. "I'm sorry ****."  
Sorry?   
The gun was carefully set on your desk, fingers stroking it, you refused to touch it. "What is it?"  
Clint opens and closes his mouth before he grimaces, "I'm not here to kill you." Still, you keep the gun right where it is. "I thought you should know." It looks as if he wants to say more but instead he covers his face with a mask and walks out, the corridor dark and you know that the cameras were down.   
No one would know that Clint was here. The envelope had sat on your desk for the rest of your shift, curiosity ate at you but you needed to finish your assignment, tomorrow was your anniversary and if you were correct in your snooping then Steve would probably be proposing.   
The envelope weighs heavy as you make your way down the elevator. Lost in thought you have mixed feelings.  
_I thought you should know._  
It's a broken record and as you're driving to your shared apartment you can feel it. The anxiety building and building until tears burn your eyes and you pass your building.  
And drive.  
And drive.  
And drive some more.   
You're still in New York, the music is playing some soul music, you need it because you can feel that something is wrong and you can't help but feel like it had to do with Steve.  
_I thought you should know._  
You knew a lot. So many secrets, plans, passwords, trigger words, names, codes, you *know a lot.   
_I thought you should know._  
There was a reason why you didn't believe real love existed. Pulling into the next rest stop you park away from the small cluster of cars and underneath a lamp light.   
Doors locked, car running, you reach for the vanilla envelope. On a whim you crank the music,paranoia that your car was bugged ate at you   
_I thought you should know._  
Unraveling the cord you hesitate. For a moment you believe you're wrong and that Steve wasn't the type... not Steve... not your goofy Steve... the one who... the photos were glossy and professional. Spilling onto your lap you're confronted with the fact that you were right all along.  
Love was a farce.  
Not only that but _friendship_ was a farce.  
It was the same woman... dirty blond hair, long, pinned in a bun, she wore a uniform and gun, or civilian clothes, but she was there. Whoever this person was she wasn't a hidden secret, photo after photo it showed the others mingling with her.  
The last one in the stack hurt like a bitch.   
The numbness had been broken and with it the tears. You did your best to suck it in and hold it but a picture never lied.  
You can lie to yourself.   
Blindly lie, live in a fairytale with how hard you lied to yourself, because the suspicion of a ring was true. It was a beautiful ring, it sat lovely on another hand attached to the same dirty blond woman who was smiling up at your boyfriend while surrounded by friends.  
Even Clint.  
It's tempting to rip the photo but you fold it in half, in third, and slip into your bra. Hands shaky, you shove the photos back into their envelope, shove it in your bag and not bothering to wipe your tears you pull up to the gas pump.  
You wasted how long?  
Too long. How stupid were you to believe that Steve Rogers, the man from a different time, was no better than the people of today. As if cheats never existed back then, stupid, so fucking stupid!  
The tank is full.  
Looking down at the pump in your hand you knew there was no one around, just a camera pointed at you.   
Fuck it.  
The back window had were rolled down, fresh air filtering the devastation, and you point the nozzle into your Stark Approved car and pull the trigger. Gasoline pours out, soaking your back seat, you aim it at the passenger seat, it was only a moment of insanity before you put the nozzle back and hop back in your car.  
Someone is running out of the pit stop place but you've gunned it out of the station and back on the highway. It smells horrible, the stench giving you a headache, but it's ok because you don't plan on driving too long.   
A part of you honestly wished you caught a spark and poof problem solved. You weren't that lucky. Nor that suicidal but finding out that you were the side bitch would do that to you and that no one cared to tell you... yea... fuck the Avengers.   
The car explodes with a deafening boom and fire spills out of the open windows and the trunk pops open. It sits on the side of the road, well away from the trees that rustle in the night but it's beautiful to watch.  
Your phone, the photos, badge, tablet, are all in the car. Three miles up was an exit and four miles from there was a safe house. From there you're not sure what you plan on doing but you know one thing.  
You're not going back.  
Fuck them all.  
As you walk you wipe at your eyes and try not to cry any more than you have. It was Steve's lost, the companies lost, they didn't deserve your loyalty but later, when the dust settled, you'll get them back.  
All of them.

**Author's Note:**

> I might have a second part. No promises. If I were reader, I'd have run away. I wouldn't confront Steve, I'd probably bide my time and kill him or make him wish for death. Prison isn't a good look for me ❤🖤🧡


End file.
